Or elles of myn oghne Sone
I schal be slain, I mai noght fle.’
Thoghte Alisandre in privete,
‘Hierof this olde dotard lieth’:
And er that other oght aspieth,
Al sodeinliche his olde bones
He schof over the wal at ones, 2310
P. iii. 79
And seith him, ‘Ly doun there apart:
Wherof nou serveth al thin art?